How strange the world is since I started writing about food. Whoever thought our ability to travel, work, educate our children, spend time with each other, even shop, could have changed so monumentally. The way we think about our health, our choices, our future – seem so huge, so all-encompassing it is almost impossible to remember how carefree life was before this pandemic took hold of the world. Where I live, in northwest Western Australia, I’ve watched the catastrophic loss of lives from afar, listened to the infected numbers over the globe, and in my own country, tick over at an alarming rate. I have been affected by the restrictions to a degree, but compared to many I have been relatively unscathed. I had to cancel a trip to Italy (which I am still grieving over), but in the scheme of the death rates in the world, it’s hardly worth a mention. I don’t have loved ones in other states I haven’t been able to see. I don’t have a business that closed down, a job I lost. I haven’t lost a loved one to this horrible disease, although I do blame it for the passing of my near Nonna, who died during lockdown at a time when no-one could visit her in the nursing home. She was 97, had some underlying issues as well as dementia, but I believe she died of a broken heart. She couldn’t have understood why, after being visited by her family every single day, no-one came for three weeks. Covid sucks. I couldn’t even attend her funeral.
But, as always with life, we must move forward, we must go on in this new strange world where we just might need to get jabbed in the arm even if we aren’t sure about it, and wear a mask to help prevent further spread of the disease, which they say, is here to stay. I’ve had the jab (I’d pretty much do anything to make sure I can get on a plane and set foot back on Italian soil and down a Campari or two), but I’m not so keen on the masks. I’ve been lucky, I’ve hardly had to wear one, and I know I will need to and I know I will do so. But up until now, where I live, we have miraculously been Covid free (apart from a few episodes of ships turning up with an infected crew, who fortunately did not come into the community). Sure, I’ve had to endure the times I couldn’t buy a roll of toilet paper (has anyone yet figured out the global obsession with arse wiping?), days when there was no meat on the shelves, or flour (remember all those people who started learning how to make bread during lockdown), but these incidents, so far, have been pretty rare. In our remote community where the big mines churn out the minerals that bring wealth to our country, we have been protected and safe. But on February the fifth, when our government opens our borders, bringing down the walls to what is referred to as ‘Fortress WA,’ I feel this little bubble we have been living in is about to change.
Note: Before posting this our Premier just announced our borders are being extended – Mark McGowan for Prime Minister is all I can say. As I said – my perspective may be different from yours, I’ve been living in a Covid free bubble. But – the time will come. We will get exposed to it eventually!
Covid 19 being within reach in our communities, regardless of where we live, is our new reality. We must all do what we can to keep ourselves, and each other safe. We also need to acknowledge change, I know I will. Wearing a mask in our ridiculous heat (hovering between 40 and 50 degrees celsius this time of year) is going to be challenging. And I know supplies are not going to be quite as bountiful as we are used to. Staff shortages are already causing havoc on supermarket supplies Australia-wide. There are just not enough healthy people to get what we’re used to having on the shelves. This is not a third-world country, we’re not going to starve, there’s enough food to go around. Well, that is, as long as all those inconsiderate people out there stop panic buying in bulk and stashing away more than they need. Think of those families and pensioners that live week to week, who don’t have the spare cash to stock up a couple of freezers full ‘just in case.’ In these times we should not be panicking, we should be looking out for each other. There will always be enough food.
This is the perfect time to think about how we eat, and turn to those old frugal ways of cooking that fill tummies with next to nothing. It’s how we should be eating most of the time anyway. My grandparents fed a family of six with what they could grow in the garden. Meat was scarce, chicken was a luxury item only eaten at Christmas (the eggs they produced through the year were far too important), or turned into a hearty soup from a chook that was too old to lay. I’m not asking you to live off the land, although it’s a very rewarding way to live if you are so inclined. Even a few bits and pieces, like fresh herbs, cherry tomatoes, chillies, a handful of lettuce, provide a real sense of achievement when they become, or are added to, family meals. But even in these times when the supermarket shelves seem bare, you can always find something to turn into a meal. For me, you can’t go past a plate of some kind of pasta to feed a family (or just yourself), regardless of how little you have. Quick, easy pasta meals using simple ingredients you can keep on hand in the pantry, or a few fresh vegetables and herbs, are definitely worth having in your repertoire. Then when you get to the shops and there’s no meat – that’s fine. Dinner will still be delicious, and I’ll bet you’ll be able to find the meat you were after soon. Meat-free dinners are a healthy alternative every now and then anyhow, and worth continuing once the meat is back on the shelves for good.
This recipe is from my first book, Easy Home Cooking Italian Style, which is unfortunately out of print, so I’m happy to share it here. I am proud of all my books, but this one is dear to my heart, it contains the first ‘cull’ of recipes I felt such an eager need to share. I love making fresh pasta, and because the ‘sauce’ is so simple, I have suggested you make your own pasta for this meal. If you’ve never made fresh pasta and have some time up your sleeve (maybe you’re at home in isolation and have all the time in the world), please give it a go. There is something so satisfying about making pasta from scratch. Nothing compares. Eating it is like a luxurious treat, yet it really isn’t difficult at all and will ALWAYS impress whoever you choose to make it for. There’s a certain kind of magic about something you make from scratch, you know that special kind of something you get from sweet-yeasty home-made bread that comes from your own sour-dough starter, the sticky jam sitting in sterilized jars made from a glut of fruit your neighbour gave you, that fall-apart smoky brisket you marinated yesterday in your own spice blend and have cooked for 10 hours on low in the Weber, the flavour-bomb chicken stock made with old chicken carcasses from a few roast chicken dinners. They require effort. The effort provides the magic. It’s love. You really can taste it. That’s why your grandmother’s recipes were always so damn good.
If you want to make your own pasta, follow my recipe for pasta here. Follow a YouTube video to watch someone roll out the dough if that is easier for you. It’s such a difficult thing to describe – much easier to watch. Thank goodness for technology! This pasta pictured is called fazzoletti, resembling thin squares that mimic handkerchiefs. Italian pasta is generally named by what they resemble, farfalle look like butterflies (sometimes referred to as bow ties), and orecchiette look like ‘little ears,’ penne, well you guessed it, look like the nib of a pen, and strozzapreti translates to ‘priest stranglers’ – I’ll just leave that one there.
I like fazzoletti because they’re light and delicate. To go a step further, for the dish pictured I laminated (fancy for pressed together) fresh herbs through the dough, giving a kind of stained-glass effect that looks beautiful. I can just see my Nonna now, she’d be laughing at me. She’d be asking me, “Eh… why you do that for?” There’s no real reason, I just think it looks beautiful and I find pasta-making like making art (yep, she’d be doubling over laughing pretty hard now). For Nonnas, making pasta is all about feeding, not making it look pretty. But hey, I live in a time when there are people with Instagram accounts filled with all kinds of coloured pasta (including blue which is apparently ‘natural’), even pasta with images of the Simpsons on them, even ravioli shaped like Donald Trump’s head. I think I can allow myself a little pretty (plus – the herbs do actually add a herbaceous note if we must get technical, but Nonna wouldn’t buy into that either).
Anyway, if you’re making fresh pasta and want to add the herbs just because you think they look beautiful, follow the recipe to where you roll out the pasta sheet to the desired thickness, lay the sheet out onto a lightly flour-dusted surface so it is laying lengthwise in front of you. Dot the leaves of clean dry herbs along one half, then fold the other half over, press together gently, then feed the sheet back through the pasta machine from the first setting, then each consecutive setting until you have the desired thickness. The thinner it gets the more stretched and weird-looking the herbs will be so go to about the 4th -5th setting. DON’T PANIC – you do not have to make fresh pasta to make this recipe, it’s just a suggestion (like a red traffic light in Italy).
If you don’t want to make fresh pasta, this ‘sauce’ goes with pretty much any type of pasta you can buy. I would stick to the more delicate varieties, spaghetti, linguine, pappardelle, fettuccine, farfalle are all good. I’d stay away from thick robust types like rigatoni which are more suited to heavy, rich sauces. If you want to get the same effect as the recipe pictured, you can purchase fresh lasagne sheets, or even straight out of a box, dried, cut as desired, and cooked in boiling water. In any case, go with what is in your pantry, what you can get your hands on, or what you like. The real secret to this recipe is not about the pasta, it’s about the sauce. Well, that’s if you can call it a sauce. There’s no cooking, just fresh ingredients.
Tomatoes. I love tomatoes. Did you know in Italy there is an actual museum of tomatoes? It’s true! A whole museum dedicated to the humble fruit that is the basis of so many Italian recipes. You just couldn’t imagine Italian food without tomatoes, and you can’t beat a beautifully ripe tomato. A little salt, a little olive oil, and a chunk of good bread. Food of the Gods. This recipe is just as simple, so it depends on good tomatoes, buy the best you can find (or even better, pick sun-ripened from your own garden). I like cherry or mini Roma varieties that come in punnets as they seem to pack a punch of intense sweetness. Also, as I have mentioned, living in a remote town means I don’t have access to Farmer’s Markets, so not a lot of choice. If you do, not only am I jealous, but I urge you to buy some sun-ripened beauties from there. Now, I know I can’t predict the future, but I have not once in the whole time of Covid seen the supermarket without tomatoes, so even if things get hectic, you should be safe finding something. This recipe works well with overripe tomatoes too, so if you’ve got some that have been hanging around for a bit, and a bit beyond salad use, this is a good place for them.
Basically, the ‘sauce’ is a raw mix of fresh flavours of ripe tomatoes, garlic, lemon, herbs and olive oil. There’s nothing surprising here, these traditional Mediterranean flavours have been working well together for eons, and there’s a reason for that. They complement each other perfectly. The simple mix is tossed through just cooked pasta with some of the pasta water (the secret ingredient to any good dish of pasta, it adds velvety thickness to the sauce). There is just enough heat from the pasta to warm the ‘sauce’ and release its flavour. I like to add an extra squeeze of lemon and parmesan to mine, chilli is also good for a bite of heat. It is simple, but full of flavour and tastes like summer in a bowl. Perfect for hot balmy nights when the idea of a hot oven makes you feel like a cold shower. Crusty bread to mop up the juices (particularly if you’ve perfected your lockdown sourdough) would be a perfect accompaniment.
This recipe is a nod to all the Nonnas (and Nans, Grans, Grannies, Omas, Babcias, Abuelas, Yiayias, Babushkas, Obaasans and whatever you call your grandmother) who would have laughed at our panic buying and fear mongering, walked out into the garden, picked something, maybe even weeds from the side of the road, and just got on with the job of feeding the family with whatever they had. Something from not much. And it was always good.
Pasta with No-Cook Tomato Sauce
Ingredients
400g Fresh or Dried Pasta
Note: If making your own Fresh Pasta – click here for the recipe
250g mini Roma or cherry tomatoes, halved (or larger tomatoes cut into small chunks)
1/4 cup olive oil
juice of 1 small lemon
1 garlic clove, peeled and finely sliced
A good handful of fresh basil and parsley
salt
freshly ground black pepper
Grated parmesan, for serving
extra lemons.
Method
Put the tomatoes, olive oil, lemon juice, garlic, herbs, a good pinch of salt and a grinding of black pepper in a large bowl and toss to combine. Taste and adjust seasoning if necessary.
Cook the pasta in a large pot of boiling salted water, stirring every now and then, until just cooked. If using fresh pasta this will be very quick, a matter of minutes, even seconds. If using dried, cook as per packet instructions.
Scoop out the pasta with a slotted spoon (don’t drain in a colander, you want the pasta to still have some water clinging to emulsify the sauce) and add to the bowl of tomatoes. Gently toss together, add a little extra olive oil if the mixture is dry.
Serve immediately with grated parmesan and lemon halves.
Serves 4
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